


come here ( this is heaven )

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: NU'EST, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 2nd POV, Canon Compliant, M/M, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: « l'heure entre chien et loup »"the moments after sunset when the sky darkens and vision becomes unclear, making it difficult to distinguish between dogs and wolves, friends and foe."seungcheol learns that the line is subjective at best.





	come here ( this is heaven )

**Author's Note:**

> i promised myself to never write a canon compliant fic again because so much of it is speculation... and yet... here i am — eating my own words.
> 
> this ficlet is entirely self indulgent from beginning to end and establishes nothing at all. but i have emotions from the stage that won't die down or shut up so here i am.
> 
> the summary has nothing to do with anything. ( unless you squint. ) it just sounds fancy.

seungcheol’s knees knock against jonghyun’s as he joins jonghyun on the floor — both scrawny teens trying to grasp at the end of a shared far fetched dream. seungcheol laughs, merciless, at the pen held between teeth.

“what are you doing?”

jonghyun removes the pen from his mouth, frowning. “practicing. rap relies on the audience understanding what you are saying after all.”

seungcheol smiles. “you put me to shame. and here i thought _i_ was the one who liked rap more.” he nudges jonghyun’s arm lightly, causing jonghyun to break into a smile as well.

his attention turns to the booklet splayed open in front of jonghyun, the one he was hunched over before seungcheol distracted him. seungcheol snags it before jonghyun can do anything about it.

“don’t look,” jonghyun protests weakly, “it’s embarrassing.”

“please,” seungcheol says and jonghyun relents before he adds a: “i’ll be the judge of that.”

seungcheol thumbs through, amazed at the lyrics jotted down, filling page after page. the line marks. the breaks. all planned out in an easy matter that seungcheol can almost hear in his head. he whistles, appreciatively, under his breath.

“i think it’s great,” seungcheol says, honest. “i would know, because i’m a rapper too.” ( because you wish you could be this inspired at all times. )

jonghyun chuckles as he colors from the compliment.

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

“i’m not sure i’m the right choice for this,” jonghyun divulges when there is not a soul around, spare for seungcheol, “it is one thing to lead trainees through practice, it is a different situation altogether in leading a band.”

a moment of silence before seungcheol reaches out, fingers gripping jonghyun’s shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. “i, on the other hand,” another pause, voice quiet, “can’t see anyone else in that role but you.”

the hallway is dark. seungcheol can only guess at the expression on jonghyun’s face.

“i wish you were with us.”

seungcheol laughs, easily ( ignoring the lump forming in his throat, forcefully swallowing it down ). “i will be there. didn’t you see the list of extras for the mv?”

“it’s not the same.”

( the way his voice cracks mimic the fracture lines on your heart )

“i’m happy for you.” another squeeze, a smile proffered until jonghyun’s lips twist to mirror it.

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

divergence. nearly a thousand kilometers from home. a distance that feels more kin to oceans away.

jonghyun still doesn’t fail to congratulate seungcheol and apologize for things not in his control — namely the inability to attend the debut stage.

he’s in a foreign land, trying to make a name for himself — for his band — after slaving over pronunciation and trying acquire a new language. so all seungcheol asks for is their attendance in a future concert.

 _when we are famous_ seungcheol jokes _with a bigger set list_.

 _i wanted to be there for your milestones_.

( the _like you were there for mine_ remains unsaid. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

“we should sleep” his temporary roommate says the exact moment his phone vibrates with another notification from jonghyun with a similar message. “we have a big day tomorrow.”

seungcheol hums in agreement.

the lights overhead get switched off, leaning seungcheol to bask in the glow of his phone, still typing away at a reply, unable to fall asleep from the giddiness of the upcoming concert. jonghyun suggests a convenience store run and attaches a list of items to try while he's at it.

 

 

( he dreams of jonghyun sharing the same hotel room: a conversation that lasts long into the night before they drift off in anticipation of tomorrow night and a sea of light sticks that wave under their banner. )

( an ocean away, another individual dreams of the exact same thing. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

( there’s a kind of guilt that curls through the bloodstream, making a home of your veins. the one that results from fates being reversed. it’s not your fault but it feels like it is.

jonghyun will understand if you reply a few days later with some shoddy excuse of being busy but it feels awfully close to purposefully rubbing it into his face. so you do nothing instead.

the numbers next to his name keep piling up. the guilt gnaws at the tips of your toes when you have a moment to rest. you count it a blessing that schedules are so packed it barely gives you a moment to breathe. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

seungcheol should’ve seen this coming. trepidation felt in the palms of his hands, turning clammy as seconds tick by, standing outside of a conference room where his five friends are inside. the conversation is muted. it doesn’t take a genius to guess at the topic at hand.

“seungcheol...” someone gently reminds of the upcoming concert plans and seungcheol forces a laugh, forces himself back into seventeen’s leader, and walks away.

the lyrics he are supposed to write for the upcoming song remain at the word count of zero. the sheet beside his is brimming, taking up the entire page. wonwoo still hasn’t stopped nor lost inspiration.

seungcheol watches, fascinated, ( reminded of a certain someone else ) and conveys his sense of awe.

( he only nods, face impassive as he continues his work, unlike the certain someone you know. tint of pink nowhere to be found. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

( you learn, in the aftermath, of their decision to put themselves on the line, to revert back to five years ago, to become trainees again.  
who are you to have a say in any of this? )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

the whole lot of them must be masochists. instead of spending their time wisely in monitoring or catching up with the new drama, they watch their brothers stand in front of 97 trainees and 5 mentors — vulnerable to all hate and scathing comments.

jiyoung noona drowns in reminiscence.   
( so do you as a choked sobs wracks your body. if it goes noticed, no members make a note of it. after all, some of their eyes are as red as yours. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

_honestly, i was pretty scared_

seungcheol’s ribs feel tighter than after practicing for a concert set that consisted of the most rigorous and upbeat opening songs.

_to me, this is my last_

the edges of seungcheol’s eyes grow blurry, eyes prickling.

_but i think of the people who believe in me_

seungcheol tilts his head back, trying to blink away the tears to no avail.

_don’t worry_

one of his kids supplies him a tissue that seungcheol takes gratefully.

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

( you have no right to feel this swell of pride when he makes his way up in that humble manner of his to claim his rightful place at the top of the pyramid. )

( you have no right. but the smile remains on your face for the rest of the day. )

( it is then that you decide, regardless of how busy you are, how much sleep you have to forfeit — sleep is overrated anyway — you’ll attend the finale to witness another milestone of his. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

the voices of dissent remain background noise in seungcheol’s insistence. they cave, but not after quietly interjecting with voices of reason. how he still is responsible for twelve other individuals, how this might put a dent in their schedules, how it might not go the way he envisioned, how his presence wouldn’t amount to much at all.

to which his answers were: he’ll be held accountable, they’ve already done so much the past few days it is technically his night to spend as he pleases, it doesn’t matter, and that’s not the point of this. he’s here because he wants to be — three hours into a setlist of a handful of songs.

his friends ( four on stage and one below ) are only meters away but it still feels oceans apart ( lifetimes of catching up ).

he probably shouldn’t be this nervous. imagine what it would be like if he was up there: future dangling on a precipice.

jonghyun smiles easily.   
( korea finally seeing him the way you always have. )

the countdown. an arduous tour through the episodes, sprinkled with purposeful cliff hangers.

the seats start filling up. seungcheol’s holler for minhyun is drowned out by a chorus of fans.

still three below and two spots left.

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

( the part of you still reasonable knows that the expression on your face isn’t one your company would approve of — too transparent, too angry, too unidol like for a place where you are surrounded by fans and the potential to be captured. but you don’t care. jonghyun landed in fourteenth place, dongho in thirteenth, minki in twentieth. all of them wearing smiles and words of gratitude on their lips.

your jaw is set. fists are probably clenched. this has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

but it isn’t.

he smiles brighter than everyone else, giving hugs and comforting others as if he was the one who had climbed into the top eleven spots.

he’s not.

your heart breaks in his stead.   
and really, you should have seen this coming. )

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

“what do you think?” someone asks for convention’s sake over the choreography they’ve drafted up for the mama stage.

seungcheol nods in approval, head still trying to process the idea of a shared stage.

 

 

♪ ♪ ♪

 

 

nervousness curls in your stomach despite the countless amount of times you’ve practiced — all seventeen of you crammed into a room. despite how yesterday there was a full rehearsal. this is the real deal.

it comes to you easier than you expected, drifting into that mind space where it picks from muscle memory, that comfort zone where all you have to do is _perform_.

everyone sinks down leaving just you and him.

you think of how you used to dream of standing on the same stage, singing the same song, sharing a foreseeable future.

you reach for him.

the _come here_ rips out of you like a plea. you are grateful for the stabler voices that harmonize and the track that plays overhead.

your fingers slide down his, trying to ignore the inevitability of separation

_this is heaven_

it comes anyway.

you’re probably not supposed to be this immersed into a song but your eyes linger for a fraction too long.

there is poetic justice in how it ends, you suppose, both the last ones standing at the very front of the stage — on opposite ends.

everyone’s path diverges in the end but it doesn’t mean that the love and support has to too.

the lights dim.

you look over and meet his eyes, smiling in tandem.

**Author's Note:**

> for a closeup of the epic leader line moment, click [here](https://twitter.com/1995scoups/status/935885928102379520).
> 
> summary taken from [this tweet](https://twitter.com/melodia_muse/status/935723121197363200).
> 
> jonghyun's verse in fear was taken from [this tweet](https://twitter.com/chickyjun/status/863070473025867776). should've reproduced it in full for more impact but i already cried enough as is.
> 
> cry [with](https://twitter.com/protectnuest/status/758008004046446593) me please.


End file.
